


And All The Nights to Come

by InvincibleRodent



Series: Raymond Trevelyan [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, At This Point It’s Just Excessive Really, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gratuitous Erotica, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, PWP, Playful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, starts kind of slow but i promise it'll get to the point quickly please don't leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvincibleRodent/pseuds/InvincibleRodent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> "It is an open secret that Raymond Trevelyan is balls deep in love with Dorian Pavus. As a direct consequence, his thoughts scarcely move an inch without bumping into some piece of the mage- A laugh, a gesture, a step in the endless dance with magic. [...] Not trusting his at best mediocre command of words, he makes it his mission to show it through his touches." </em><br/>----<br/>Writing practice gone out hand somewhere down the line. And so, porn happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All The Nights to Come

**Author's Note:**

> I call Dorian my gorgeous trashmage all the time, but in reality, I'm the only one who's trash here  
> Thought I should mention, this is the short I had saved under “in which the inquisitor eATS ASS” for like a month. Considered keeping that for the title too.
> 
> Would also like to direct your attention to [these](http://8tracks.com/birdsandbones/take-your-clothes-off) [playlists](http://8tracks.com/alowmax/p-leisure) \- I was listening to these two on repeat while writing and editing this. (I'm saying this because I had a hard time finding unobtrusive mood music, thought you guys would enjoy some too :))

It is an open secret that Raymond Trevelyan is balls deep in love with Dorian Pavus. As a direct consequence, his thoughts scarcely move an inch without bumping into some piece of the mage- A laugh, a gesture, a step in the endless dance with magic. An idle word, a scent, a taste.

Even weeks, months into their... _arrangement_ , after countless hours entwined in each other, countless easy kisses and eager touches, he still never ceases to find more things, more tiny quirks and nooks on Dorian’s body, seemingly made for him to adore, and he greedily counts them all, traces them with eager lips and hands.

The adorable, inviting mole by the corner of his eye, he had kissed and caressed more times than either of them can count.

The junction between Dorian’s earlobe and the column of his neck, where Ray’s lips fit just perfectly, he takes full advantage of.

The shaved, smooth skin stretching back from his temples, concealed only by a fine dusting of coal black hair, warm and smoother than the finest Orlesian silk, and the way it still urges Ray to touch and kiss at every opportunity.

The lean, strong body arching and flexing beneath or over his, skin the color of a warm, late autumn afternoon, Ray had already explored thoroughly with reverent hands, many times, and still not nearly enough- he is unsure if there even is such a thing as _enough_.

He adores it all. He _loves_ it all.

He loves the soft movements of skin stretching under finely groomed facial hair as Dorian talks, his sensuous lips curling and curving around words in a way that’s almost criminal, sinful; he loves the sizzling promise the word ‘ _amatus_ ’ holds as he whispers it, gasps it, moans it.

The way quicksilver words tumble out of his mouth, in strings of filthy Common and even filthier Tevene; ‘ _kaffas_ ’ suddenly the sweetest flattery.

How the corners of those most wondrous eyes crinkle in amusement; and those pale irises- the color of ashes that burn like crushed embers, or the flash of the dagger’s steel as it delivers a fatal blow.

He loves Dorian’s hands, large and battle-worn, yet soft; and the small writer’s callus on the inside of his middle finger. The blunt nails scratching at scalp and shoulders, leaving angry red marks on Ray’s skin in their wake; sneaking down his thighs, adorning his back and buttocks with tiny, crimson ribbons.

He loves the scent of old books, worn leather, the faint hints of ginger and cardamom, and a subtle sting of the lyrium singing in Dorian’s veins- like the scent of lightning, and the taste of it lingering on his lips after battle.

The Inquisitor loves all that and more, and not trusting his at best mediocre command of words, he makes it his mission to show it through his touches.

Through the way his arms sneak around the mage’s waist in the cover of that alcove, body flush against his, warmth easy to feel once the bulk of plate armor comes off.

Through the way his mouth slants over a jugular, sucking a feathered-edged, angry red mark into the skin; the way he unashamedly admires his work as it slowly fades.

Through the way he traces his lips along his lover’s knuckles, greeting each one as an old friend, and through the way his hands cradle Dorian’s face before a kiss, the trail of a calloused, sword-roughened thumb over his cheekbone, light as a spirit’s caress- as if he was a piece of artistry; fragile yet magnificent, one that may shake the world out of its hinges but also may break at the wrong flick of a finger.

Through the way he kisses him, lips gentle yet burning with passion, his tongue flicking into the mage’s gasp... Each kiss a prayer, a heated gospel, unspoken words of worship that leave him flushed and somewhat winded.

 _This_ kiss is deep, thorough, as if trying to memorize the taste, commit to memory the feel of each other’s tongues; as if the only way to breathe was to steal the air from the other’s lungs. It’s needy, it’s messy, and it’s _perfect_.

Battle-marred hands kiss a profane litany down Dorian’s sides, a touch like a deity’s breath grazing his skin _-such a beautiful contrast with the pearly white of the Orlesian sheets-_ , as the warrior revels in each dip and curve of the painstakingly sculpted torso arching beneath his own. Ray slowly, reluctantly breaks the kiss, and allows himself to smile at the half-hearted attempt Dorian makes to chase his lips, to recapture them.

Suppressing saccharine thoughts _-Maker forbid ever saying them out loud, it would only make him laugh-_ , his mouth inches down to draw a long, burning track down Dorian’s jaw, his throat, his bare chest. One hand, he plants firmly over Dorian’s heart, feeling the urgency of the mage’s erratic heartbeats under his palm- they are faster than he would let on; while the other nestles under the arch of Dorian’s back, right where it bleeds into the tantalizing curve of his backside. The scholar’s fingers tangle in hair the color of warm bread, feeling the heat radiating from Ray’s cheeks and savoring the blush on the tips on his ears.

He peppers soft, sloppy kisses on the planes of Dorian’s chest, slow and deliberate in his way, but he obeys the gentle guidance of the fingers fisted in his hair- When his mouth finally envelops a nipple and his teeth gently scrape at the sensitive skin, Ray peeks up in genuine adoration and watches Dorian’s upper lip twist into a silent, pleased snarl. His thumbs circle the enticingly protruding hipbones, a look of intense concentration on his face, and they sigh softly in unison. Ray gives a tiny grunt of approval when the mage’s hips jerk up in vain, seeking friction, any kind of friction that would ease the building pressure in his groin.

Dorian stuffs an arm under the pillow beneath his head, lifting it. “Pardon the interruption, but may I ask how long you intend to be doing that?” he smirks, amused and almost nonchalant, but clearly growing impatient with such gentle ministrations.

Ray releases the nipple with a grin, and a parting peck of his lips. “Oh, just another hour or two, maybe an eternity.” His tongue darts out to teasingly wet his upper lip, and he nuzzles into the flushed skin of his lover’s chest; the ever-present stubble on his chin scratches like fine sandpaper. “You know, just until I get bored of admiring you.”

Dorian grimaces, and rakes his nails through the short hairs on the base of his lover’s neck.

“So not in this Age, I assume. As much as I would hate to hurry you-” a less than dignified hitch in his breath interrupts him as the Inquisitor’s tongue dips into his navel in its pilgrimage, and his teeth rake down the well-groomed line of coarse, dark curls leading down the mage’s abdomen. “-I must remind you... ngh. That Lady Josephine would sooner break down your door than allow you the luxury of getting _bored._ ”

Ray frowns and, with a soft kiss against the mage’s inner thigh, he lifts his head.

“That’s neither nice, nor fair, Dorian.” he pouts, but the curving of the corners of his mouth betray his act. “Pardon my assumption, but you seem to be enjoying yourself, and it’s not like I get the opportunity to take my time often.” Another peck on the bronze skin, a purposeful, teasing scrape of scruff. “You make the most _adorable_ sounds, by the way.”

“You seem to take an unnerving amount of pleasure in--- _nfff_. Tormenting me, Lord Inquisitor.”

“My, and I was trying so hard to be subtle about it.”

“With all due respect, you are about as subtle as a filthy outhouse.”

Ray briefly splutters into the crook between Dorian’s thigh and groin.

“Ouch.” he chuckles, and hooks a finger into the silken smallclothes stretching across the mage’s hips and hardening length; a silent request for permission. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

“Who, me? Perish the thought. I am but stating facts.” the mage returns the smile, denying the lurch the endearment stirs in his heart, and obediently lifts his hips off the overstuffed mattress- just high enough so that a firm tug could rid him of his smalls and release his half-hard cock. He lets out a dark chuckle as his eyes follow the silken underthings’ unceremonious flight across the Inquisitor’s quarters.

“Yes, just as I suspected. Every part of you is, in fact, utterly gorgeous.” the warrior breathes playfully, his nose nuzzled in the dip between the base of Dorian’s thigh and length; his lips mouth small, wet kisses along the lines between the juts of hipbones.

“You certainly are not illiberal with compliments, _amatus_.” Dorian smirks, and pushes the hair out of those remarkable eyes _-not just blue, but a pale blue, the blue of the Nocen sea from my window in Vyrantium; rimmed with dark, rich indigo, and sweet Andraste’s blushing buttocks, when did I get so mushy?-_ , his hand absent-mindedly twirling around a strand, gaining a quiet, somewhat airy chuckle and a brush of lips on flushed skin that makes his eyes flutter for a second.

“I give credit where credit is due.”

The Inquisitor’s words are innocent, yet spoken with such obscenity, it sends a noticeable shiver down Dorian’s spine, one not entirely unrelated to the teasing touches and warm breath on his length.

“I could earn more credit with my actions.” he suggests with what he hopes is a teasing smirk, but ends up more of a breathy plea. The Inquisitor returns the smile in kind, his tongue tracing his upper lip obscenely.

“I have no doubts about that, but it is joy enough for me to be giving you all the pleasure I can.”

“Not just a hopeless optimist, but an altruist now as well, I see.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, this is entirely selfish.” Ray drags his warm tongue along a vein, gaining himself a long intake of breath through the seam of lips and a buck of the hips. His face all but splits in two with a broad, self-satisfied grin. “Hear that? Music to my ears.”

A weak laugh slips past Dorian’s lips. “As nice as trading quips with you is, please do quit teasing me. Sometime today if possible.”

“Spoilsport.” the Inquisitor whispers, and finally, deeming his captive’s suffering to have been sufficient, he dips his head low, and only sparing a brief second to wet his lips, he wraps them around the head in a slow, deliberate, yet firm suck, and _kaffas, it’s perfect_.

Dorian lets out a small noise of some description -not quite a moan, but he would sooner bite his own tongue off than call it a whimper-, his gaze links with his lover’s as he watches inches of himself slowly disappear in the Inquisitor’s descending mouth. The hold of his fingers in the other man’s hair tightens, almost to the point of causing pain, but it’s a pleasurable sting, and Dorian’s head falls back on the pillow as he tries to regulate his breathing, to fight back the noises straining against his teeth.

Ray hums in approval, and watches the tremors of his voice run along his lover’s body, and Dorian’s eyes flutter shut as each agonizingly slow bob of Ray’s head slides more of his cock into his mouth and throat. Ray hollows his cheeks and suck, lips leaving a wet stripe, as he slowly pulls his head back until he allows Dorian’s length to flop out of his mouth, and onto the mage’s stomach with an embarrassingly loud, obscene popping sound.

Ray flashes another devilish grin, and hoists a now limp leg over his shoulder, removing even the vague modesty Dorian’s thighs offered, leaving him spread out completely under his cosseting.

“Like I said, music.” he teases, and plants a gentle kiss on the head, which sends a small jolt of pleasure down his lover’s spine again.

“I cannot help but wonder where you left your manners.” Dorian smirks, a flush blooming on his cheekbones. He releases the fistful of hair he didn’t quite realize he was still holding onto, and combs the tresses back into their usual, swept back style with his fingers.

“Says the bloody Desire Demon. Here down South, we call that ‘the pot calling the kettle black’.”

The two share a somewhat breathless laugh. Ray’s fingers trace along, then loosely wrap around Dorian’s shaft. A smirk tugs at his lips as the so far controlled breaths catch in his lover’s throat at the slight squeeze and the teasing flick of the warrior’s tongue against his slit.

“But _Maker above_ , you look good like this.” Dorian breathes, positively agitated at his own response, but pliant under those touches, unable to tear his eyes away- this man even has the _audacity_ to hold eye contact as he slowly, agonizingly slowly lets the head slip back between his lips, enclosing it in a wet heat that sets the mage’s blood ablaze. He even _smiles,_ he _dares to smile_ , as mischievously as one can around a mouthful of cock.

His head starts bobbing again with ease, quick and dirty and _deep_. Dorian grunts softly as the head hits the back of the Inquisitor’s throat with each dip. That tongue, that skillful tongue draws tight circles on the underside, alternating between soft massaging and long, broad licks... A deep groan tears itself from the mage’s throat, and the Inquisitor hums appreciatively, easing more shivers and soft noises out of his lover.

Dorian can’t bear to watch anymore; he throws his head back, and his eyes, pupils blown wide to where his irises are but a ring of gray, are now squeezed shut. One hand tears at the sheets next to his head, the other, still tangled in the warrior’s hair, insistently guides that sinful mouth to envelop more and more of him.

Dorian breathes a soft sigh when the other man obediently follows, until his nose hits the triangle of neatly kept, dark curls, and Dorian’s twitching cock presses against the back of his throat, where he swallows through the tears that spring into his eyes from the effort. The sudden pressure earns Ray another pleasured grunt and a jerk of the mage’s hips with a moan of his name, his real name, _given_ name, and Maker, his heart swells with affection.

Ray pulls back slowly, his chest heaving with labored breaths. Barely allowing himself enough time to recuperate and slow his breathing, he repeats the action- his head bobs first slowly, then with an increasing tempo, the huffs and sighs come in unison with each time his lips drop low. Pleasure coils deep, almost frighteningly deep in Dorian’s belly, threatening to unfurl, burst free.

A warning grunt is all he can manage, and Dorian tugs at the tresses between his fingers. His teeth sink into his lower lip, and he breathes a sigh of relief as Ray immediately pulls back, his fingers still holding firmly at the base; a thin line of saliva and pre-cum still dangles from his lower lip and an impish, almost haughty grin spreads across his face.

“Didn’t realize you’d be so quick to give up.” he teases, and gives a few loose strokes, his voice hoarse yet full of affection, and Dorian feels his heart tighten.

“Oh, I do apologize.” he breathes finally “I did not realize we were having a competition. Although were it one, it would be highly unfa _\--aah._ ” the word catches halfway in his throat as a single finger unexpectedly brushes his entrance.

“Unfair?” Ray offers playfully, and he licks his lips, that little pest has the gall to lick his lips so lewdly... Dorian merely nods, and wriggles his hips towards his lover in silent agreement, bracing himself for the usual dull, stretching pain and spark of pleasure.

To his surprise, what follows is a positively devilish flash in the Inquisitor’s eye, and an eager hand slipping under his ass.

“Get on your stomach for me.”

Dorian merely cocks an eyebrow, but that profane slurring of his lover’s voice makes his mouth go dry- there is no arguing with that voice, not that he would want to, and he rolls over with just a hint of reluctance, mostly for show.

Ray slips his forearm under Dorian’s hips, and lifts him with more ease than it would be reasonable, nudging a short stack of pillows under the mage. Dorian gathers up an armful of the sheets in front of him, and props himself up on his elbows to peek back under his arm.

“What exactly is it that you wish to do to me?” he asks, although they both know it’s not really a genuine question; if not from the playful tone, then from the subtle rocking of his hips. “Not that I’m complaining, of course, merely intrigued.”

“Just stay there, and don’t move. Whatever I do, just try to lay still.” Ray responds simply “Tonight, I want to make it all about you. Want to make you feel good.”, and Dorian drops his head back down with a roll of his eyes.

The clacking of metal signals the loosening of the Inquisitor’s belt, and he lets out a huff of relief as his uncomfortably hard dick is pushed out of the pants, only restrained by a layer of soft cotton.

The fabric shifts noisily and the mattress sinks in under his weight as he moves to kneel between Dorian’s thighs, and he leans over, weight supported by his elbows planted on both sides of Dorian’s torso; his broad chest presses against Dorian’s back and his clothed cock into the crease of Dorian’s ass. The mage scoffs, but he stills himself- _if this is the kind of game the Inquisitor wishes to play, so let it be._

“You’re _gorgeous_ like this, you know.” Ray muses, and mouths a few open-mouthed kisses up along the mage’s neck until his lips are hovering right over Dorian’s ear, and _Maker_ , the faint scent of dragon’s blood on his breath is even more intoxicating this close. Dorian tilts his head with a warm hum to give his ministrations more room. “Sometimes I still can’t quite believe my luck.”

Although Dorian would like to respond with something witty, the roll of the Inquisitor’s hips presses his cock up against Dorian _just right_ , and in turn grinds his own dripping erection into the pillows below- all he can manage is a soft “Hmm?”, and Ray chuckles lowly.

“Oh, yes.” he growls, lips tightening into a vulgar grin. Dorian pushes his hips back unconsciously seeking friction, but the Inquisitor’s focus seems unbreakable, and the words resonate in Dorian’s chest. “Just being able to touch you like this? Seems beyond my wildest dreams.”

“You might need wilder dreams, amatus.” he returns the grin rather breathless, and twists his head back to be able to look at the man from the corner of his eye. Ray’s soft kisses find their way onto his cheekbone before slipping towards his jawline and neck again.

“Maker, I’ve been thinking about this all day. I can’t wait to be inside you again.” Ray murmurs when he reaches the nape of Dorian’s neck, his voice low and dirty, and Dorian shudders as Ray bites down softly, his breath held in focus. “To be buried in your sweet ass, squeezing down on me as I take you, again and again... make you scream loud enough for all of Skyhold to hear.”

Dorian squeezes his mouth shut- he refuses to admit what that tone or those words do to him, because they certainly do _not_ make the room feel warmer, _or_ make all the blood in his brain suddenly rush South. At all. In fact, if the chill running down his spine is anything to go by, it is positively glacial in there.

A harder bite punctuating his dirty words does earn Ray a muffled grunt and a jerk of Dorian’s hips, despite his best effort to honor the request to lay still. Ray pushes himself back up onto his knees, satisfied, making his lover huff softly in disappointment.

A teasing, feather-light touch with the back of his knuckles skitters along Dorian’s spine, the path they have roamed a thousand times and will never tire of; and Ray’s fingers dip into the dimples at the base, trace the curve of his ass, nudging his thighs apart. Fingers sink into the pert flesh, and Dorian finally lets out a tiny moan. Ray’s hands rub and caress the planes of bronze skin in admiration- awe, as if he had confused their roles and mistook Dorian for the divine symbol.

“You should see how good you look right now.” he whispers in genuine adoration, and a hand slips between Dorian’s thighs to cup his balls and drag a finger along his taint, while the other rubs the small of his back, pale fingers spreading warm and wide over the skin, and Dorian arches into the touches. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

A questioning “nf?” is all Dorian can manage in return, and Ray gives an affirmative hum.

“I doubt you’re fully aware of just how powerful this is.” he grins, and gently swats at a cheek before he lets himself fall back forward and catches himself on his forearms. “Have you ever seen it from this angle? Finest of the Maker’s work I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.” A soft kiss between Dorian’s shoulder blades punctuates his words. “Or hands.” His lips trace the line previously explored by his fingers, to the small of Dorian’s back, and slowly, he eases himself lower on the bed until he’s lying between Dorian’s thighs, his hips grinding idly against the sheets. “... Or mouth.”

As if to demonstrate, Ray playfully sinks his teeth into the flesh, while his hands knead at the hard muscle of Dorian’s thighs, thumbing the shallow crease where they meet his ass.

Dorian lets out a pleased hum, and lays his head comfortably on the pillow in his arms- or, at least as comfortably as his damn near _painfully_ hard cock and the awkward angle of his back allows. “If this is all you had planned for tonight, then by all means, do keep telling me how great I am.”

Dorian frowns at the breathlessness of his own voice. _Way to play right into his hands, Pavus. Why don’t you also scream ‘take me’ at the top of your lungs, now that you’re at it._ To downplay that momentary slip, he gives his hips a tiny, teasing roll, swallowing back the gasp welling up in his throat at the friction, and he savors the frustrated grunt that coaxes out of his lover and the telltale shift of fabric as Ray readjusts his cock in those still unnecessarily tight pants.

“See? That’s exactly what I mean. Maker-forged perfection, right here. A work of art.” Ray growls, and gently nibbles on the mound of flesh in front of him. “But stop distracting me, I’m on a quest here.”

“A quest. At my rear.”

“Precisely. Your gorgeous, _perfect_ rear.”

“Which you are currently speaking _into_.” Dorian notes, not without amusement, but the only response is a mock-insulted grunt, and a somewhat harder squeeze as both the warrior’s hands come to fumble at his buttocks.

“It appears to be a better listener than the rest of you. Now, where was I?”

Even without seeing Ray’s expression, Dorian can tell there is one of those blighted attractive, lazy smirks stretching across his lover’s face... and that’s about the last coherent thought he can manage before those hands spread his cheeks, and all reason leaves him instantly as a warm tongue circles his entrance. Once, twice, three times, and Dorian sucks in large gulps of air through his teeth to suppress a loud moan, thrusting his hips back, shamelessly seeking more.

Deliberately ignoring his own need, Ray obediently flattens his tongue and increases the pressure for a few long, broad licks before he would return to drawing idle shapes with the tip. He probes at the ring of muscle, dipping in with every other pass, and Dorian gasps, and moans, and all but _writhes_ under his ministrations- teeth sink into his lower lip to suppress the bulk of those delicious noises. His fingers grip onto the sheets for dear life.

Ray’s stubble rubs against the sensitive skin as his jaw moves, as he moans hungrily against Dorian’s entrance, and _Maker_ , it feels divine. Somewhat ticklish, but divine, the way tongue and lips and hot breath press against him just so. Dorian lets out a husky laugh- _Surely, not many can claim to have had the Herald of Andraste face-deep in their asses_ \- and groans when that sinful tongue sinks into him _just_ right.

Ray pulls his head back with a shaky breath, and Dorian is just about to complain, but the breath turns into a gasp when two saliva-slicked fingers come to rub at his hole and perineum.

“T-this is fine, right?” the throaty words come accompanied by a desperate squeeze of a hand- Ray too is aroused beyond measure, but even so, his voice is not without concern. The warm breath on his wet skin makes Dorian shiver slightly, and by now, he’s sure he has soaked through the sheets.

Dorian twists his head back in an uncomfortable angle, his forehead presses into the pillow; his eyes somewhat hazy, unfocused, and it takes a couple blinks to zero in on the Inquisitor.

“Beyond fine, amatus.” he rasps with a lazy grin through slightly shallow breaths, gaining a warm chuckle. “I would call it a rather unique religious experience.”

“If you can still blaspheme, I’m clearly not doing a good enough job.”

“Quite the contrary, you are doing an--- _aaaangh._ ”

The words die halfway in his throat to a raspy moan when the hot mouth returns to what feels like its rightful place, and he unconsciously arches his back, legs spreading further without being urged to.

“Shut it, and get the vial for me.” the Inquisitor growls, a sort of hunger, a primal lust licks at the edge of the playfulness in his voice, and he rises onto his knees.

A shaky hand fumbles around under the pillows until Dorian’s fingers brush a cool glass vial- half empty from the last time, but it should still be more than enough. He yanks it free and slides it back over his shoulder, into the Inquisitor’s waiting grip.

A soft pop resonates over strained breaths as Ray uncorks the bottle with his teeth, and the viscose oil drips down slowly; large dollops of honey-colored liquid slide against flushed skin, and he muffles a groan as Dorian’s body _spasms_ at the contact.

Warm lips travel back up the tight arch of Dorian’s back, and a single digit of Ray’s marked hand slides against his entrance and spreads the slickness, circling and loosening as gently as the shaking of his hand allows.

Ray breathes a soft blasphemy, and inhales sharply- he watches shamelessly as the tip of his middle finger slowly, but steadily sinks into the tight heat.

“I’ll never get used to this.” he groans, his dry hand soothingly rubs Dorian’s back before it slips away to palm roughly at his by now positively soaked erection through his smalls, to finally pull it loose, and he sighs at the sensation as his cock rests heavily against the mage’s thigh.

He falls forward on a shaking arm with a low whine, and drops his head between Dorian’s shoulder blades as his finger wriggles in deeper with a fluid roll of his wrist, and the mage gives a shuddering gasp, his hips rolling up to meet the intrusion.

Ray murmurs sweet nothings, filthy words and blasphemies, peppering soft kisses and even softer bites on whatever his mouth can find as a second finger joins the first in its slow thrusts, then a third, and they curl _just so,_ and _Maker above_ , Dorian hasn’t stopped rocking his hips since the first. He can feel his toes curling, hear his own shallow pants and increasingly noisy gasps and moans- or is it the Inquisitor’s, he can no longer quite tell through the mush in his head, but just to be sure, he bites down on the fabric in his arms.

“A-almost, Maker-- _fuck_ ” Ray breathes; a word that doesn’t leave his mouth often, but that just makes it even more delicious, more beautiful when it does. “Almost there sweetheart, just a little longer...” His three fingers are buried to the knuckle each time they sink back in, and they repeatedly hit that one spot; the one that makes Dorian quiver with need and see stars beneath his eyelids, even though he can’t quite remember when he closed them in the first place.

The fingers are removed abruptly, and with a grumpy little sigh, Dorian’s hips rise to chase after them, as high as his quivering legs allow. Through the pleasured haze, he can hear the uncorking of the vial again- this time, Ray lets all of its contents pour over his cock, drip onto the sheets, leaving small specks of wet stains. He gives a few loose, almost experimental strokes with his oil-slicked hand, and he lets the shaft slide back and forth wetly between Dorian’s cheeks without entering.

“You ready?” he asks huskily, and the only thing holding Dorian back from keening is the last shard of his dignity he’s clutching in a white-knuckled grip.

“Maker _damn_ you--” Dorian growls through grit teeth, and Ray chuckles softly at the aggravation in his lover’s voice.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

One arm supports the Inquisitor’s weight and stops him from falling fully on Dorian’s back as his slick hand positions his cock.

A deep groan is torn from both their throats as a fluid roll of his hips breaches the tight ring of muscle- Ray leans forward as he sinks into his lover, slow and easy, until his pelvis is flush against Dorian’s ass, where he pauses for a few dozen erratic heartbeats. His arm quivers from restraint and the exertion of holding his weight off the man- his free hand grasps for Dorian’s, and their fingers wove together on top of the sheets, as he plants sloppy kisses on the nape of Dorian’s neck to ease any possible trace of discomfort.

Ray pulls out halfway with a shuddering gasp, and they groan in unison when he slowly, _excruciatingly slowly_ sinks back, Dorian’s hips raising to meet, to hurry the carefully calculated thrust.

“So good-- Sweet Maker, you feel _so good_.” he pants roughly against Dorian’s ear, and Maker, that sound is addictive. The mage finds himself letting out a low keen as he grinds against that spot with practiced ease and begins to pick up the pace. “You’re gorgeous like this, you’re _amazing_ , so beautiful--”

His thrusts are slow, deep, _perfect_ , and Dorian writhes- in the face of such a deep, grinding pace, words leave him, and he bites down on the pillow in his arms, as a last ditch attempt to muffle his whines. Sweat-slicked bodies move together, slow and powerful; low groans and soft slaps of skin against skin fill the Inquisitor’s quarters.

And just when the slow crescendo of pleasure would reach its peak... Ray slowly comes to a halt and kneels up.

Dorian lets a frustrated noise slip into the feathers shielding his face, his hips thrusting back wantonly, desperate to chase completion, but a hand on the small of his back stills his movements. When the Inquisitor speaks, his voice carries the telltale lilt of a filthy smirk.

“Ah, now I see what you’re doing. Lift your chest.” he rasps, and his arm slides under Dorian as he obeys, because _what else is there to do_ when he’s so close, so, so very _close_ but not there, and it’s so very _aggravating_... He gasps at the shift in the angle, and only then does he realize he’s mostly limp as the Inquisitor pulls him up -with unnerving nonchalance, might he add- to kneel in front of him, back pressed tight against his lover, legs spread shamelessly, as if presenting his erection to the world, and _Maker_ , this would be humiliating if it wasn’t so _hot_ , and he wasn’t _so bloody close..._

“My poor pillow has had enough. Now tell _me_ how it feels.” Ray whispers against his ear, mischievous, and the filthy words in his ear send jolts of warmth along his spine. “I want to _hear_ you.”

Without even giving Dorian time to catch his breath or collect his scattered thoughts enough to respond something equally mischievous, Ray pulls back, and plunges back in deeply- the slow grinds turn into short, quick thrusts, each rams into that sweet spot, and Dorian throws his head back with a loud moan completely unlike himself.

“That’s it--” Ray moans back and his pace stutters as a violent shudder races down his spine- the hand not holding the mage pressed tightly against his chest sneaks down to stroke Dorian’s cock in time with the snapping of his hips. Along with the breakneck rhythm and how _good_ his dick feels inside, his loose grip has the mage trembling and keening for his release. “M-moan for me, _please_ \--”

Without the security he found in the sheets and pillows, Dorian fumbles for purchase against the powerful assault on his body- finally, one hand twists back to grip the Inquisitor’s ass, urging him, pulling him in further; the other on the back of his neck, pulling his head into a brutal, savage kiss, a bruising crush of lips and teeth and moans of pleasure tangling with their tongues as the pace grows more and more erratic.

“S-so damn be-.. beautiful--” Ray chokes out, and he whimpers loudly as nails dig into his ass, but his pace doesn’t slow and his grip only tightens as he buries his face in the side of Dorian’s neck. “Come for me, sweetheart, _sweetheart_ \--...”

And come he does. Loud. And _hard_.

His body bends into a perfect hyperbola and he stiffens as his release coats Ray’s fist and his own stomach in long, drawn out spurts; each tearing a loud, increasingly higher pitched, whimpering cry from his throat, and he shakes uncontrollably. Slow, deliberate strokes and shallow thrusts coupled with hushed whispers, soft praises and words of affection work the mage through the waves of his orgasm before he finally, after what feels like a little eternity, slumps back into his lover’s waiting arms.

“I got you, sweetheart.” Ray murmurs affectionately, and eases out of Dorian’s tender, overworked ass- just after a few tugs and shuddering breaths, he quietly spends himself on the small of Dorian’s back.

They all but fall forward onto the overstuffed, now thoroughly mussed up and stained bedding. Ray can still find enough power in his limbs to roll off onto his back, to avoid dropping his entire weight on his lover, for which Dorian is infinitely grateful- or at least he will be, as soon as he catches his breath and regains use of his brain. Because as of right now, he’s not entirely sure a thing such as words still exist.

It takes about a minute until they recover an acceptable level of awareness of their surroundings, and they share a short laugh that ends in a choked up cough on the still panting Inquisitor’s part. Dorian flashes a lazy grin.

“Having trouble breathing, amatus?” he murmurs coyly through the strain in his voice as soon as he remembers words, a hand gliding through Ray’s sweat-dampened hair, and the Inquisitor returns the smile in earnest. He gently tugs the hand down to his face and breathes a loving kiss against Dorian’s palm-- it tickles, but it’s not unpleasant at all, and there is something about the intimacy of that gesture that makes the mage’s heart strain against his ribs, threatening to burst.

“Always, when you are in my sights.” Ray muses against the heel of Dorian’s palm with a comically flirty waggle of his eyebrow, and Dorian huffs out a laugh.

“How long have you been saving that line?”

Ray lazily trails his small kisses to the inside of Dorian’s wrist before he drops the hand, and lets it slink down to lay on his chest.

“A couple of weeks.” he grins, props himself up on his elbows, and they kiss with the practiced ease of long-time lovers- a drowsy, comfortable rhythm of lips vowing together. Dorian lays his head back on his armful of -now slightly sweat- and saliva-dampened- pillows, and closes his eyes.

“I do so love it when you try to use words.” he mutters into a mouthful of damp cotton. The pleasant, dull ache just starts to settle into his limbs, and the tendrils of the Fade drape over him heavily, tugging his eyes shut. Ray sits up with a grunt.

“Wait, sweetheart, no... don’t fall asleep yet. Let me--... Ngh, let me clean you up.” he pushes himself up gracelessly- his legs protest against the exertion with a violent wobble, and he immediately plops back down “... Right. Right after my legs start working again.”

Dorian’s dazed mind doesn’t quite register much besides the sound of awkward, uneven footfalls and brief sloshing noise, somewhere in the washbasin’s general area, until a cool, damp cloth wipes the release off his back and his ass- he only winces slightly when it also wipes him clean of the excess oil.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” comes his lover’s voice somewhere from behind, his warm hand rubbing soothing, apologetic circles into his hip.

“Just a mite tender.”

“We-- or rather, I might have overdone it a touch, huh.” the Inquisitor chuckles, and the cloth lands on the stone floor with a wet slap. Ray merely falls back with the grace of a sack of potatoes, and lets out a long, drawn out breath as he turns onto his side and snuggles into the sheets, content.

Dorian props himself up on his elbows. “Aw, does that mean there won’t be a round two?” he asks, and smiles as the warrior’s shoulders shake softly with his laugh. “But, I’ve got to ask- why the special treatment? Tonight of all nights?”

Ray’s only response for long seconds is a deep grunt, and an arm lazily thrown around Dorian’s waist to pull him closer. When he finally turns his head to look at the mage, he only has one eye cracked open, and a loving smile stretching across his face. 

“After the living hell I drag you through, day after day... Jus’ wanted to show you... how much I care, ‘s all. Wanted to help you relax. Make you happy.”

Affection wells up in Dorian’s belly, and for once, he doesn’t feel the nagging urge to stomp it back down- instead, he simply bends forward for another kiss and bumps his forehead against Ray’s as the man lets out an almost indecently long yawn; his voice but a sleepy mumble- “Are you gonn’ stay the night?”

Dorian nods. “If you wish.”

“I wish. C’mere.”

With a content sigh, Ray cuddles into Dorian’s chest- he drapes his arms loosely around Dorian’s waist as he drifts to sleep almost immediately.

\--

Dorian gazes down on his lover for a few minutes, fighting the pull of the Fade in favor of combing the mussed hair back from the sleeping man’s forehead with a tender smile. In the dark, he yields easy to the temptation of a hushed confession.

“Tonight, and all the nights to come.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wasted so much time on this, I kind of want to print it out, just so then I could set it on fire. I have no excuse, I just believe that Dorian deserves someone who absolutely adores every crumb of the pile of gorgeous trash he is, and I just... really like reading and writing about playful, happy sex.  
> I also headcanon him as being unnervingly quiet in bed, because... secrecy. And stuff. I mean, you kinda have to be good at holding your voice, even in a Tevinter Circle, where it probably isn’t downright forbidden as it is in southern Circles, but considering their views on homosexuality...? My Inquisitor on the other hand is just a little shit without redeeming qualities, and I have nothing to say in his defense. He’s just nuts deep in love. Idk.
> 
> (Did y’all know “sweetheart” has been in use as a affectionate term since the 13th century, and as a synonym for “loved one” since the late 16th? So cute. And shakily period-appropriate. Which is enough for me.)
> 
> I still have [a tumblr](http://www.weresquirrel.tumblr.com), now with a slightly more reader-friendly theme :^) Please consider dropping some kind of feedback! I'm still rather uneasy about my writing, and English _is_ my second language, so I would appreciate any kind of criticism!


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